The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Chapter 66: A Threat Long Buried

The emperor's words settled heavily across the chamber.

For a brief moment, no one answered.

Lucien remained seated in his chair, his gaze calm beneath the light pouring through the stained-glass windows.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said simply. "I saw it myself."

The silence that followed felt colder than before.

Raphael leaned back against his seat, fingers tapping lazily against the armrest as though considering whether to laugh or not.

"Surely you jest," he said. "A surviving Dark Lord? That is quite the claim."

"They all died four centuries ago by the hands of your ancestor," the representative of Bryndale finally spoke, his tone flat and skeptical. "Are you implying the imperial records were wrong? That generations of people somehow failed to notice the survival of a Dark Lord?"

The emperor slowly turned his gaze toward the man.

"It has been nearly two decades since I last saw the former Duke of Bryndale," Emperor Darius said calmly. "And now his son, Charles, does not appear personally but instead sends an envoy. I believe we have never met before."

The man placed a hand over his chest in a respectful gesture.

"My apologies, Emperor Darius. I am Tristan Dale, envoy of the Ducal House Dunmore."

His expression remained composed beneath the emperor's gaze.

"I must say that Duke Charles deeply wished to attend personally," Tristan continued evenly. "But as Your Majesty knows, Bryndale enters its season of shrouds during this time of year. The high mists are descending from the mountains, blinding our watchtowers and drawing out the things that hunt in the dark. To leave the territory vulnerable now would be irresponsible. Thus, our duke chose to remain at the frontlines."

A brief pause followed before he added carefully.

"He merely entrusted me to represent Bryndale's position in his absence."

The emperor studied him for a moment before giving a slow nod.

Soon, the attention within the chamber shifted back toward Lucien once more.

Lucien exhaled softly.

"I do not doubt the imperial records," he said at last. "But this time... it is different."

His hand gestured lightly toward Valerie.

Without hesitation, Valerie stepped forward and retrieved a small dark pouch from within her coat. She loosened the cord before carefully placing its contents upon the circular table.

Resting inside was a charred, twisted fragment of blackened crystal. It shimmered faintly beneath the chamber light like obsidian laced with dying embers.

"A shard of corruption..." Tristan muttered beneath his breath.

His brows furrowed as he stared at the crystal.

"It is true that Dark Lords once possessed such things," he admitted, "but abyssal monsters carry corrupted shards as well. How can you prove that this belongs to a Dark Lord?" 

"Pardon my intrusion, Lord Tristan," Valerie interrupted calmly. "But I have spent years hunting abyssal creatures alongside His Grace. This shard differs from the shard corruption they carry."

The room remained silent as she continued.

"The dark mana within it is far older... denser." A faint tension lingered beneath her composed expression. "I believe even you can sense it."